


Enjoy the Tea

by TomatoBookworm



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Tea shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomatoBookworm/pseuds/TomatoBookworm
Summary: One day, Fitz is going to enjoy his tea and scones in the most coveted armchair at Mockingbird Cafe, even if his sworn enemy claims otherwise. She is not going to distract him with her two doctorates or pretty face or knowledge of Doctor Who trivia. He will get that seat!
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 22
Kudos: 57





	1. Enemies

Hunter opened the doors with a flourish. 

“Looks good, right?” Hunter asked. “What do you think, mates?”

Fitz glanced around the room. Hunter actually did a decent job in fixing the place up. Sunlight poured through the windows. The tables and chairs were all mismatched and sourced from secondhand shops or estate sales, but the effect was one of cozy chaos instead of absolute mayhem. Since the place wasn’t open for business yet, the display cases were empty. He could easily imagine the mouthwatering scones and pies from Grandma Hunter’s recipes though. 

“It’s nice,” Fitz said. He gestured towards the jars of tea leaves lined up on the back shelf. “Are you really going to serve nothing but tea? Wouldn’t people expect coffee from, well, a coffee shop?”

“ _ She  _ was going to make this a coffee shop,” Hunter said. “It’s my shop now, and I can serve whatever I bloody want.”

“But the sign still says Mockingbird Café,” Fitz pointed out. “Why don’t you change it to something like, I don’t know, Hunter’s Tea?”

“He can’t change it because that’s the name on the license,” Mack said. “It would take too much time and money to apply for a new food and beverage permit with the city.”

“Time and money I can’t afford, thanks to the hellbeast,” Hunter said. “Never get married, Fitz. The divorce took everything I have and then some. Trust me, it’s the fastest way to the streets.”

“I haven’t even billed you yet,” Mack said. “Pretty sure you haven’t paid any rent since you moved into Fitz’s guest room either. As far as personal properties go, you did get the coffee shop.”

“Weren’t you taking my case pro bono?” Hunter said. “My point is, I only got this coffee shop on half of the first floor. She got the other half and the second floor. Where’s the justice in that?”

“Oh no, you are getting a bill from me once this shop is up and running,” Mack said. “And her half of the first floor included the staircase. The judge wasn’t going to allow you to take the entire first floor without giving her access to her business.”

“The she-devil can fly,” Hunter grumbled. “All her health nut followers can probably sprout wings too. I am telling you, no one gets up at five in the morning for a Tai Chi class. They are probably all making bloody sacrifices of their ex-husband’s tears.”

“Don’t let May hear you say that,” Mack advised. “The doctors told her to go easy on the injured leg, but I am pretty sure she can still kick your ass with one foot.”

Fitz agreed. Bobbi’s friend and former boss did not tolerate much. There were many bids for the building when Melinda May decided to sell the fitness studio after her injury. She chose Bobbi and Hunter solely because Bobbi promised to keep the studio open. If Hunter wasn’t still married to Bobbi back then, May would have tossed his offer in the bin. Probably. Hunter did have a certain charm. 

“Fine,” Hunter said. He took out three beers from the fridge on the back wall. “Cheers mates. To making money off health nuts!”

* * *

  
  
  


Fitz opened the door hurriedly. He had promised to be the first customer for Hunter’s grand opening, but then an emergency came up in the lab, he stayed late at work, and he fell asleep at his work bench. He solved the problem in the morning, brushed his teeth in the staff bathroom, then took the rest of the day off. Now it was nearly eight in the morning and Mockingbird Cafe had been open for almost an hour. Hunter was probably stewing in the empty tea shop. 

“Morning!” Hunter greeted him. “What can I get you? The scone’s fresh out of the oven.”

“Er, a scone would be nice, yeah,” Fitz said. He looked around the room as he walked to the counter. Nearly every table was full. “Actually make that two. I forgot to eat last night and I am starving. May I have some strawberry jam and a cup of tea too please?”

“I am out of strawberry jam,” Hunter said. “How about raspberry?”

“What?” Fitz exclaimed. “You can’t be out of strawberry jam. I watched you make twenty jars this weekend! You took over my entire kitchen!”

“And nineteen jars are sitting there right now,” Hunter said. “I only brought one jar to the shop because I didn’t think it would go that fast.” 

“How?” Fitz asked. He waved at the room. “How are there so many people here already?”

Hunter leaned forward across the counter and dropped his voice to a conspiratory whisper. “Turns out, five o’clock Tai Chi practitioners may be health nuts, but six-thirty kickboxing students all feel like they deserve some fresh scones and homemade jam after class.” He winked at Fitz. “So, how about some raspberry jam?”

“Fine,” Fitz said. He liked the strawberry jam much better than the raspberry one when he was doing taste tests for Hunter, but he supposed he didn’t have a choice. At least he could count on Hunter to brew the tea properly. 

Balancing his plate precariously on one palm while holding on to a steaming hot cup of tea with the other hand, Fitz walked towards one side of the room. When Hunter gave him and Mack the shop tour earlier, Fitz had already decided on his favorite spot. It was a corner table by the window, away from other customers, and had the most comfortable armchair. 

The table was empty save for a used tea cup and saucer. Hunter must have been too busy behind the counter to come over and clear away the dishes. Fitz set down his own food and drink, then he reached for the empty cup, intending to return it to Hunter. 

“Excuse me, what are you doing?”

Fitz turned around and almost forgot how to speak. A gorgeous woman was standing behind him with a teapot in her hand. 

“Er, clearing the table?” Fitz said. 

“Thank you, but I am not done with my cup yet,” the woman said in a crisp English accent. She took the cup from his hand, set her teapot on the table, and sat down in the comfortable armchair he had wanted for himself. 

Fitz stood still. Did she… did she just… 

“What are you doing?” Fitz burst out. 

The woman looked up. “Waiting for my tea. Your boss refilled it with hot water only a minute ago and the leaves require time to steep.” She gave him a questioning look. “I know it’s the first day, but haven’t you ever worked in a tea shop before this? Or made your own tea? Don’t tell me you are one of those men who rely on his mother to do everything. Oh, and I didn’t order scones and jam. You have the wrong table.”

“What? No!” Fitz said. “To all of that. My mum is an ocean away and I would do things on my own, even if she is here. I know how to make tea. I don’t work here. Hunter’s not my boss. That food is for me. And you just stole my chair!”

“This is my seat,” the woman said. 

“No,” Fitz said. He waved his hands. “See, that’s my tea and scones right there. I got here first and this is my table.”

“My cup was here, indicating I’ve merely stepped away for a moment, in this case to refill my teapot.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Was that why you were removing my tea cup? To steal my table?”

“Your cup was empty!” Fitz said. “That’s the universal sign for an abandoned table!”

The woman looked at him coolly. “It has been and shall remain as my table until I finish my tea. I suggest you look for a seat elsewhere.” 

Very deliberately, she poured herself a new cup of tea. It was nowhere near done brewing yet! Fitz snapped up his own cup and plate. 

“Fine! Enjoy the tea!”

  
  



	2. Friends

The faint scent of rain lingered in the air as Fitz walked down the sidewalk to Mockingbird Café. Street lamps lit his path against a dusky sky. He almost slouched with relief when he finally pushed through the door. Hunter was wiping down the counters, but the sign didn’t flip to ‘closed’ yet. 

“Pot of Early Grey please,” Fitz said. “And sweets. Whatever sweets you have.”

“That kind of day, huh?” Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Tea and sweets coming right up.”

Fitz turned towards the table by the window. He wanted nothing more than to flung himself into the comfortable armchair and not move again until Hunter brought out his food. Alas, it was not to be. 

“You again.” If Fitz had any energy left, he would have put more grumble behind the words. As it was, he merely sounded defeated to his own ears. “Why is it that every time I come here, you are already in that chair? All I want is to sit somewhere comfortable and enjoy my tea. Don’t you have anywhere else better to be rather than hanging out at a tea shop near closing time?”

“I can ask you the same question,” his nemesis said cooly, sitting in his favorite armchair. She frowned as she took in his state. “In fact, I would highly recommend a trip home for a change of clothing. Your trouser legs are covered in mud.”

“Believe me, I know,” Fitz said. “Stupid driver sped through a puddle when I was waiting to cross the street.”

“And you have to protect your briefcase with your life?” 

“How do you know?” Fitz looked down at the item in question. “Ah, I suppose it is the only thing on me that’s not soaked through.” He had covered the briefcase with his own body during the rainstorm. Now it was the one item on him that wasn’t dripping wet. 

“Yes, you have surprisingly good muscle definition for someone so pasty,” the woman said. She colored slightly. “Your briefcase must be important.” 

“Yeah, it has my designs for a set of forensic drones, each one will be able to retrieve biological data from accident scenes where humans cannot reach…” Fitz paused. “Sorry. I am probably boring you.”

“Not at all, it sounds fascinating, and I would love to hear more.” The woman held out a hand. “Jemma Simmons, biochemist.”

Fitz stared at her. He knew he should offer his own hand in return. He wasn’t that socially awkward. Except his hand was covered in sweat, rain, and mud. 

She raised an eyebrow and said in that proper English voice, “You claim to know how to make tea and design drones. Do you also possess knowledge of normal social interaction rules?”

“Of course I do!” Fitz huffed. “I am just trying not to get mud on your hands, and honestly, ‘normal social interaction rules’? You are an odd one yourself.”

“Oh.” She looked taken aback. “Well, I spent half of my teenage years on my Ph.Ds. I suppose I didn’t spend as much time practicing socialization as my peers.” 

“Ph.Ds?” She looked the same age as he was, and he had never met anyone else who got a doctorate in their teenage years, much less two. “What are your fields? Ah, and I am Fitz. Leo Fitz, engineer.”

“Fitz.” She tested his name on her tongue, and it sounded different, coming from her with the English accent. “I am currently working on dendrotoxin. When properly applied, it can render people unconscious…”

Her project was fascinating. Fitz listened eagerly, chiming in with his own questions and observations, which in turn made her eyes lit up and her words pour out. At some point Hunter cleared his throat rather loudly, and they both jumped. 

“Excuse me.” Hunter held up a teapot and a plate of scones dramatically. “But where would you like me to place this?”

“Right here please.” Jemma pointed at the table, with her own tea cup and book already laid out. She looked at Fitz. “That is, if you would care to join me?”

Fitz took the second best seat across from Jemma. The armchair was identical to the one she occupied, but it was closer to the door and hence more prone to drafts. He was willing to put up with a bit of cold air in order to continue their conversation. Besides, the tea would keep him warm. 

They kept talking over tea and scones. The topic went from science to home to other things. Fitz learned that Jemma was a genius, new to the city after a recent job change, brilliant in some things and utterly wrong in others. For example, she thought scones paired better with Assam rather than Earl Grey tea. They were debating loudly over the merits of strawberry versus raspberry jam when Hunter once again came by. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate customers, especially customers who are so enthusiastic about my food,” —Hunter smirked at them— “but it’s past closing time.”

Fitz looked out the window in surprise. Sure enough, it was dark outside. He had only meant to stop briefly at Mockingbird Café, but he had completely lost track of time. 

“Sorry,” Fitz apologized to Hunter. “Didn’t mean to keep you. I can help you clean up and pick up pizza on our way home?”

Jemma made a little sound of surprise, “I didn’t realize you two are together.”

“Not like that!” Fitz hurried to explain. “Hunter’s a good man, but we are just friends. He’s staying with me while he figures things out after his divorce, since I have a spare room and no spouse. Or boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Or anyone really.”

“And Fitz here could use a friend,” Hunter grinned. “Someone smart, British…”

“Someone who won’t throw me under a bus, yeah,” Fitz hissed. He would like to know Jemma better, but he didn’t want to come off as desperate. 

Fortunately, Jemma seemed to take their comments in stride, “A friend would be nice.” She smiled at Fitz, with a twinkle in her eyes. “We can meet here again tomorrow. I will save you a seat.”

“You are planning on coming early and stealing the chair again, aren’t you?” Fitz wagged his finger at her. “I will get that chair next time. You wait and see!”

  
  



	3. Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Mention of Daisy/Lincoln in passing
> 
> \- A big thank you to @LibbyWeasley for helping me brainstorm and getting me over the writer’s block!

Fitz did not get the chair next time. Or the day after. Or the week after. In fact, they have been meeting regularly for months now and Jemma got the comfortable armchair every, single, time. 

“I don’t understand how she does this,” Fitz complained to Hunter one night while they were hanging out in the apartment. “Jemma’s office is closer, so it makes sense that she arrives before me in the evenings, but in the mornings too? I’ve been waking up earlier and earlier, and Jemma’s still there every time I walk in! Maybe I should go in with you next time. She can’t take the seat before you open the doors, right?”

“You’ll never wake up that early,” Hunter said as he folded his laundry on the couch. The shop had occupied all of his time, and Hunter was barely around the apartment except for the occasional chores, though he did make sure to leave Fitz plenty of fresh baked goods and homemade jam. “Why don’t you come in at some other time? I can text you when she’s not around and the chair is free.” 

“That’s not the point.”

“I thought the point was to have the best seat all to yourself?” Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Unless you are more interested in the woman sitting in it.”

“Of course I am more interested in Jemma, she’s bloody amazing,” Fitz said. He already had wonderful friends like Mack and Hunter, but there was something special about Jemma. “I also want her to stop rubbing that chair in my face.” 

“Right, because you want her to rub something else instead.”

“Hunter!” 

“What?” Hunter shrugged, a picture of innocence. “I meant you like it when she riles you up with her double degrees and fancy science talk. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I wasn’t… I didn’t… Jemma is my friend!” 

“No one said she’s not.” Hunter stood up with his pile of folded laundry. “But is that all you want her to be?”

* * *

  
  


Alright, so maybe Fitz would like Jemma to be more than a friend. He had eyes, and even back when he thought of Jemma as his mortal enemy, he admitted she was gorgeous. Now that they were friends, her attraction only increased. Fitz always preferred a classic beauty. Paired with genius level intellect? He might as well propose on the spot. 

Or at least ask her out first. Fitz absently noted Hunter’s smirk behind the counter as he walked into the shop. He needed to figure out how to shift their relationship and convey his interest. Now he didn’t make the best first impression, but Jemma had overlooked his grumpiness and befriended him, so hopefully their initial animosity wasn’t enough to disqualify him as a romantic prospect. Jemma also said she broke up with her last boyfriend Milton for always agreeing with her. If Jemma wanted someone who’s not afraid to voice his opinions, then Fitz would certainly fit the bill. In fact, he thought he caught a certain spark in her eyes once or twice while they were arguing…

Fitz came to a halt in front of their table. Hunter would say that no one could reserve a table at a tea shop, but Fitz had grown used to thinking of the little spot by the window as theirs. Whenever Fitz came here, he would always find Jemma sitting in the overstuffed armchair, absorbed in her books or research notes, the light shining on her hair as she looked up at his approach. He hadn’t realized how much her smile felt like a welcome home until now, when she wasn’t there. 

He snapped around, “Hunter? Where’s Jemma?”

“How should I know?” Hunter said as he rearranged jars of homemade jam on the shelf. “Maybe she had somewhere else to be today. It’s what happens when you don’t hurry up and ask her out. She could make other plans.”

“But she’s always here before me!” What if something happened to Jemma? Fitz grabbed his phone. Her last message was from the previous evening, a cheerful goodbye at the end of their nightly text thread, saying she was going to bed and thinking of him. He tried calling her, but no one picked up. 

“Calm down, Fitz,” Daisy yawned from the loveseat nearby. As the five o’clock Tai Chi instructor at Studio M upstairs, she usually came to Mockingbird Café in the morning as well. “I’m sure Jemma is just running a little late today.”

“Jemma is never late. What if she’s sick or got into an accident? Daisy, can you ask your boyfriend to check the hospital records?”

“Lincoln can’t do that, patient confidentiality. Plus he would have called me already if he saw Jemma in the ER.” Daisy took a gulp of her tea as Fitz breathed a sigh of relief. The caffeine kicked in for her a moment later. “And Lincoln’s not my boyfriend! We hang out here, that’s all.”

“I’ve seen you two here every day, sitting on the love seat together, drinking  _ tea _ ,” Fitz pointed out. Realizing that Jemma was probably fine and he was overreacting meant he needed to redirect his nervous energy elsewhere, and what better way than to tease a friend? “When we first met, Bobbi introduced you as the biggest coffee drinker on the planet aside from herself.”

“Hey! My tea is good enough to convert anyone,” Hunter objected. “Now are you going to sit down and order or not? These tables are for paying customers, you know.”

“Fine. A pot of Earl Grey and a scone with strawberry jam please.” Came to think of it, the shop was much less crowded today, or else the table would have been snapped up already. He should take a seat now before someone else tries to steal their spot. 

Sitting down in the armchair was weird. It was every bit as comfortable as Fitz remembered from the time he visited before the official opening, but now he felt bereft without Jemma’s company. Fitz opened his phone and tried to focus on some personal projects in between bites of his breakfast. Even science would go faster if he could talk to Jemma and ask for her thoughts. 

A gaggle of voices came into the shop as Fitz took another sip of the tea. Apparently the kickboxing class upstairs let out late today. He looked up and almost spilled his cup as he half rose to greet the subject of his thoughts. 

“Jemma! You’re here!”

“Of course I am. We meet at Mockingbird every morning and evening.” Jemma’s lips curled up in an amused smile. She was freshly showered and immaculately dressed as always, but her hair wasn’t quite dry yet, a hint at the deviation from her routine. “But I see my one day of tardiness has finally allowed you to take my seat.”

“Ah, I think you mean my seat.” Fitz put his cup on the table and deliberately sat back down. Now that Jemma was here, he could relax and appreciate his victory. “Such a comfortable chair. No drafts at all. Really, the best seat in the house, won’t you say?” 

“Oh I quite agree,” Jemma said. There was a glint in her eyes, something Fitz had seen before, when she knew she was going to have the final word in their arguments. “And I don’t intend to give it up.”

“Yeah? How do you plan to” —Fitz’s words cut off as Jemma sat down in his lap— “Jemma? What are you… I mean… Wh… What?”

“You’re right, this is the best seat.” She turned to face him and he could smell the lingering scent of shampoo on her hair, see the water droplets disappearing into her neckline, and almost kiss the grin off her mouth. “And it’s even better with you in it.”

“You’re wet,” Fitz blurted out the first thing on his mind. “I mean your hair is wet. You must have showered but didn’t have time to blow dry properly.” The lightbulb lit up in his brain. “The kickboxing class let out late! That’s how you always get the chair first. You come straight from upstairs!”

“Excellent deduction, Dr. Fitzy,” Jemma said. “Although I must admit, I thought you would have figured it out long ago.”

“The kickboxing class doesn’t meet on the weekends.” Hunter complained enough about how business was slower on those days. “I didn’t make the connection because I see you here every day.” 

“Oh?” Jemma leaned in ever so slightly closer. “And do you know why?”

Alright, Fitz might be slow when it came to dating, but he wasn’t that slow. After all, it was the same reason he came to Mockingbird Café twice a day, when he could have enjoyed free tea and scones back at the apartment. Fitz put his arms around Jemma, to make sure she wouldn’t fall out of his lap of course, and grinned. 

“Well, you are a highly competitive genius who hates to lose” —Jemma’s indigiant huff was adorable and Fitz had to stop himself from kissing her right then and there— “and you like to tell me how I’m wrong about the best tea brand or the top Doctor Who episodes. Since I finally broke your winning streak, would you, ah, like to get dinner sometime? We can go to a proper restaurant, with tablecloth and everything, and pick a favorite table there?”

Jemma’s eyes were bright as she looked at him, “Yes, on one condition.”

“What is it?”

“We find a corner booth, so we can do this.”

Their lips met eagerly. Fitz held Jemma steady as she caressed his face and explored his mouth. She tasted sweeter than any jam and scones. 

A loud cough interrupted them all too soon.

“Hey, this is a family friendly shop!” Hunter smirked at them, unabashed by Fitz’s glare. “And again, tables are for paying customers. No exceptions for seat sharing.” 

“Of course, a pot of Earl Grey and your breakfast special please,” Jemma said without blinking an eye. “I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”

“But that’s my order.” Fitz looked at her in surprise. His own cup of Earl Grey was still on the table. “You usually choose Assam.” 

Jemma’s glance dropped to his mouth, “I’ve found that I like the taste after all.” 

“Right, yeah.” Fitz licked his lips. “Want more before your drink comes?”

“Mmm, I’m a bit thirsty after all the exercise.” Jemma pulled him closer again. “Better enjoy the tea.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- It’s finally done! I did not expect this little fic to go for months without updates, but well, 2020. Thank you everyone who stayed with this fic!


End file.
